Album Review: The Reservations

Self-Titled Ep (Gnar Tapes)

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[BIG BEAT FROM STUMPTOWN] As much as I loved Mattress,
something about Rex Marshall’s basso profondo voice never seemed to jibe
too well with that band’s lo-fi electronic leanings. But with his new
outfit, the Reservations, Marshall’s throaty growl is given its perfect
vehicle.

This
gloriously sleazy quartet rolls back the clock to the ’80s when bands
like the Cramps and James Chance & The Contortions were turning the
pompadoured swagger of ’50s and ’60s rock and soul into ragged cries
from the gutter. While he shares vocal space with organist Chris
Hoganons—who adds a soulful bleat to the proceedings—it is when Marshall
takes center stage that the Reservations work best. With his rumpled
guitar and the downright indecent tones of Hoganons’ organ playing,
Marshall opines like he has just emerged from an absinthe-induced sleep
in search of his first cigarette and the girl he spent the night with.
“I’m gonna find you!” he wails on the album’s closing track (“Find You,”
natch). I wouldn’t doubt him on that point. Nor would I question his
insistence earlier in the album that he needs an ambulance to “carry my
body/ to take me back home.” In both cases, Marshall imbues those lines
with spine-tingling authority.

What you don’t get
from this (cassette and digital) EP, though, is the sense of danger
necessary to push it directly in your face. Maybe the Reservations’
hard-boiled edge only comes out in the band’s live shows. Or maybe the
quartet takes its chosen sobriquet a little too seriously. Either way,
the Reservations would be better served by spiking their phonic hooch
with more blood, fire or other dangerous element.

SEE IT: The Reservations will release their debut EP on Thursday, June 16, at
Holocene with Wampire, Religious Girls and Rocky & the Proms. 8:30
pm. $5. 21+.